


Officer Hottie & the Redneck Friendsgiving

by ArcticLucie



Series: An Officer & A Baker [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baking, Cooking, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Merle's a mean drunk, Thanksgiving, turkey hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: Rick and Daryl celebrate their first Thanksgiving together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone need an escape from Thanksgiving hell? Or just hell in general? Have a nice heaping helping of Rickyl fluff with a spoonful of smut on top for good measure!

Some of Daryl’s favorite memories revolved around Thanksgiving. Kind of a pointless holiday in the grand scheme of things, just an excuse for people to gorge themselves on carbs and alcohol under the guise of honoring a celebration that kicked off the genocide of an entire race of native inhabitants, but whatever. He loved food.

And he especially loved the memories he’d made with his grandparents in the kitchen cooking up a feast for his lowlife family. At least it meant he ate well for a few days. His parents spent most of Thanksgiving drunk off their asses, which also meant he didn’t have to listen to them bitch about how men didn’t belong in the kitchen.

If they could see him now: an apron tied around his waist, up to his elbows in flour, the taste of cardamom on his tongue. He kind of wished they would’ve lived to see it, what he’d built, his bakery, his hot piece of ass in full uniform that just walked in the door. He honestly didn’t know which would’ve pissed them off more, Rick being a man or a cop, but he really didn’t care.

“Hey, babe,” Rick hollered, sidling up behind him to peer into the mixing bowl he’d had on full blast. “Got you a turkey.”

The feel of Rick pressed against him almost distracted him from the travesty presenting itself. He turned when Rick held up a round plastic oblong wrapped in a yellow fishnet mesh before he scoffed and shook his head. “Rick, what the hell is that?” He shut off the mixer as he glared at the offending package.

“A turkey,” Rick repeated as he moved over to the side so they could face each other. He looked so fucking proud of himself too, but his eyebrows began to furrow the longer they stared at each other. “I heard ya tellin’ Maggie you’ve been too busy to get a turkey, so I thought I’d help you… out. What?”

“That ain’t a turkey, Rick. That’s an abomination. ‘Sides,” he continued as he turned back to the cupcake batter to scrape down the bowl with a spatula, “Me an’ Merle are gonna get one tomorrow.” Daryl looked back at him when he heard Rick sigh. They’d only been together for a few months, so Rick’s eyes had no business having that much effect on him. “ ‘M sure it’s a great… _turkey_ , Rick. I can use it for something, jus’ not for Friendsgivin’.”

“Jus’ thought it’d save ya some time.”

Daryl abandoned the batter again to wrap Rick in his arms. “ ‘Preciate the thought.” He leaned in and kissed Rick until he felt his frown turn into a smile, the poor excuse for a turkey soon discarded on the floor with a thud. “Why don’cha come with us tomorrow?”

Rick hesitated. Although Merle had—in theory—giving them his blessing, they still hadn’t warmed up to each other yet. “Ya sure? ‘Cause it’s Merle, and also I gotta work tomorrow anyway.”

“Call in sick,” Daryl said as he started to kiss a line down Rick’s jaw.

“Shane would be pissed.”

“So?”

Daryl smirked against his the skin of his neck when Rick’s knees started to buckle. He knew he had him after that.

Rick’s voice turned rough. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.” His teeth ghosted over Rick’s jugular before the hand in his hair guided their mouths back together. He wondered if they had time to sneak up stairs for a quickie before anyone noticed, the rest of the world going fuzzy at the feel of Rick getting hard against him.

But no such luck.

“Dammit, you two! We’ve talked about this. No more sex in the kitchen,” Maggie groaned. She popped one hip out and crossed her arms as she glowered at them. “Are y’all tryin’ to get us shut down by the health department? And what the hell is that?” she asked, pointing at the butterball on floor.

Rick sighed and pushed Daryl away so he could bend down and pick up his butterball. “Has anyone in this town ever seen a turkey before?”

Daryl and Maggie shared a look and replied in unison, “City folk.”

“I had to go to three different stores before I found this guy, and y’all are givin’ me shit for it?”

“I’ll set ‘em straight tomorrow,” Daryl said to Maggie. “Metaphorically speakin’.”

Rick thrust his turkey at Daryl and stormed out the backdoor as he mumbled something about rednecks under his breath. But Daryl had no time to worry about that because Maggie crammed four more pie orders into the overflowing bucket of orders multiplying exponentially on counter.

Their orders had now reached critical mass.

“Now can we call for backup?”

Daryl nodded. “Call Deanna and see if she can send over a few volunteers from the shelter… I can pay them with this thing,” he said, holding up Rick’s turkey in disgust.

Maggie sighed. “They’re homeless, Daryl. Haven’t they suffered enough?”

*****

Rick had to give up two shifts in order to get the Monday off before Thanksgiving. He didn’t mind though because it meant more time spent with Daryl. He’d made plans for Beth to watch the kids, and then called Lori’s parents to ask if they’d keep them an extra day at the end of the week. They eagerly agreed.

“I thought we were getting a turkey,” Rick said, frowning when they pulled off the highway and into a wooded area.

Merle scoffed as he cut the engine, and Daryl squeezed Rick’s thigh. “We are.”

“Daryl?”

“Yeah, Rick?”

“Please don’t tell me we’re gonna hunt one.”

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. “Okay… I won’t.”

Rick didn’t have anything against hunting per say, but him and the wilderness didn’t exactly get along very well. The last time he went camping he managed to slice his hand open, catch his tent on fire, fall into a river, and disturb a nest of hornets. Not his finest hour. And it was literally just one hour. He’d given up after that.

He tried to follow in Daryl’s footsteps as they moved through the brush, Merle and Daryl gliding through the trees like fish through water. Daryl looked majestic with his crossbow at the ready, his biceps flexing, muscles pulling taut as he scanned the woods. He looked just as at home as he did in the bakery, and Rick kind of wanted to find a big tree to fuck him against.

Rick, on the other hand, might as well have been a bull in a china shop. Both Dixons kept telling him to walk softer as he stomped after them, whatever the hell that meant. And after he’d scared off the third bird they’d spotted, Daryl finally dragged him back to the truck to let Merle hunt in peace.

“Sorry, but I guess I ain’t really cut out for huntin’,” Rick said as he sat down on the tailgate of Merle’s truck.

“Ain’t yer fault. Me an’ Merle’ve been doin’ this since we were born. It was either that or starve.”

Rick leaned into him when he sat down beside him, his crossbow thunking on the metal bed. “Kinda wanted to see you use that.”

“You have.”

“Yeah, to practice with, but a tree is different than our food.”

“Merle can handle it. ‘M prolly too distracted ta shoot straight anyway.”

Rick leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Since when did you do anythang straight?”

He let out an oomph when his back hit the cold truck bed, but he didn’t really mind the ridges digging into his bones because Daryl had climbed on top of him and shoved his tongue down his throat. He shivered when Daryl rock his hips down, his body flashing hot as Daryl grinded against.

His inner cop wanted to protest. They were in broad daylight on a Monday afternoon dry humping in the back of a truck, but the way Daryl kissed him had that part of his brain shutting off. Although the hand thrust into his boxers might’ve had something to do with it. Just as he unzipped Daryl’s jeans, they heard a whistle coming from the trees.

“Shit,” Daryl huffed, rolling off him and zipping back up. “What the hell’s he doin’ back so soon?”

Rick adjusted himself and sat up, buttoning his jeans just before Merle broke through the tree line. He had a turkey in each hand, and Rick felt equal parts inadequate and impressed. “That was fast.”

“Helps when ya don’t have a noisy motherfucker like you traipsin’ around out there,” Merle said as he approached. Rick’s cheeks felt hot in the cool autumn air, and they must’ve looked flushed too because Merle looked between them and scoffed. “Y’all plan this, Darlina? In my truck? Send me ta do all the work while y’all get yer rocks off?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and jumped off the tailgate. “If we’d just wanted to fuck, we woulda stayed home.”

Merle glared at Rick who jumped up just in time to avoid the two turkeys Merle threw into the back of the truck.

“Hey, don’t bruise the meat,” Daryl snapped.

“I should be sayin’ the same to you.”

Without another word, Merle stomped toward the cab and started the engine. Rick and Daryl followed, and Rick had barely had time to shut the door before they were peeling out. At one point, Daryl turned on the radio to cut through the heavy silence, but Merle turned it right back off.

Maybe hunting wasn’t the best way to go about bonding with Merle.

*****

Since Rick was the low man on the proverbial totem pole, he had to work on Thanksgiving, but he somehow managed to get Wednesday free. He planned to drive the kids to Lori’s parents’ house so they could spend the holiday with them, but first they had to drop by the bakery after he picked Carl up from school.

“Beth!” Carl shouted, darting back behind the counter to give her a hug before Rick could stop him.

They visited the bakery several times a week, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Carl considered himself part of the staff. Thanks to the Thanksgiving pageant at school, Carl had to miss Daryl’s baking class for the week, but Daryl, being a ridiculously amazing boyfriend, promised to give him a private lesson before he left for the long weekend.

“Where’s Daryl?” Carl asked. “He said he’d teach me how to make turkeys today.”

“He’s in the back,” Maggie said as she walked out with a tray of cupcakes to restock the display.

Carl made a beeline for the back while Rick chided him for getting in the way.

“He’s fine, Rick. Now let me see my girl,” Maggie cooed, turning cupcake duty over to Beth so she could snag Judith from his arms.

“If they get in the way, let me know.”

Beth and Maggie rolled their eyes at him before shooing him into the back. He pushed through the door and found Carl perched on the counter, a mixing bowl in his lap as he stirred its contents. Daryl had his head stuck in the huge refrigerator, and Rick tried not to stare at his ass with his kid sitting right there.

Daryl pulled a tray of frosted chocolate cupcakes out of the fridge and turned around, winking at Rick as he walked over to the counter. “Okay, kid. I’m gonna make one first to show ya how, then it’s all yours.”

Rick slithered forward to peer over Daryl’s shoulder. Carl’s eyes looked like saucers as they watched Daryl take a Nutter Butter and dab a glob of white chocolate onto it. Then he took an orange Reece’s piece and stuck it in the chocolate followed by two candy eyes and a sliver of red licorice to resemble the face of a turkey.

“Now we let this dry and work on the feathers.”

Carl could only nod, completely captivated by the lesson

“Ya just take some candy corn and stick ‘em upside down like this.” Daryl plunged six candy corns into the frosting in a half circle to resemble feathers, and then gently picked up the decorated Nutter Butter and stuck it right in the middle. “And there ya have it.”

“Cool!” Carl said in awe. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yep, have at it, little man.”

“Thank you,” Rick whispered before he pecked Daryl on the cheek. He tried to keep the affections down around Carl just in case it made him uncomfortable, but he looked deep in concentration as he placed a Reese’s piece in the blob of white chocolate. He had his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, like Lori used to do, and his eyes narrowed at the task at hand.

“I keep my promises,” Daryl replied, reaching over to ruffle Carl’s hair.

Rick took the opportunity to swipe a finger full of frosting off the cupcake Daryl had just decorated, but got his hand swatted as a consequence. Daryl picked up the cupcake and handed it to Rick with a glare. “All ya had to do was ask.”

Where was the fun in that? He smirked and drew his finger through the frosting, Daryl’s eyes going dark as he slipped it into his mouth.

“Dam—I mean dang it, y’all. Do I need to get the hose?” Maggie reprimanded as she walked in with Judith on her hip.

Rick wanted to be mad that his daughter had frosting smeared all over her face, but that happened every time they came to the Backwoods Bakery. Her thighs had gotten a little chubbier since they moved to town, but her new pediatrician said she’d work that off now that she started walking more.

He would’ve taken her from Maggie so she could get back to the rapidly forming line of patrons picking up pies, but he had a cupcake to eat, not to mention Daryl had already started for her. Judith all but leaped into his arms, her little hands framing his face as he blew a raspberry on her neck before kissing the strawberry frosting off her cheek.

Judith squealed with laughter, and yeah, that kind of melted Rick’s heart.

“Ya taste sweeter an’ sweeter every time I see ya, sweetheart,” Daryl cooed, Judith demanding a kiss from her favorite baker.

Seriously, were they trying to kill him with cuteness? Because who would’ve thought someone as rough around the edges as Daryl would turn to mush at the sight of his frosting-covered daughter? He was probably going to have to marry him at some point, but he wasn’t quite ready to go entertaining that train of thought.

A timer went off in the background, and Daryl handed Judith back to him so he could take some pies out of the oven.

Carl had made it through eight cupcakes before boredom set in. Daryl finished up the last four so he could take a dozen to his grandmother’s house, and once he’d packed them up, he handed them to Carl who set out to find a safe place for them in Rick’s jeep. Rick noticed the pie Daryl slipped in the bag as well, but he didn’t say anything.

“What time’ll you be back?” Daryl asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

Rick sighed, hefting Judith a little higher on his hip. “Late. They want me to stay for dinner.”

Daryl bit his lip and stepped close to him, his voice dropping and dripping with honey. “I don’t have to get up early so… if you wanna come over, I’ll be up.”

Rick swallowed and quirked a brow as his eyes fell down Daryl’s chest. “ _Up_ , huh?”

“Mhm.” Daryl leaned in and kissed him, but Judith must’ve gotten jealous because she twisted her chubby fingers into Rick’s curls and tugged until he pulled back.

“Really, Judy?” he scoffed, giving her a fake glare before attacking the petal soft skin of her neck with his lips. She broke out in giggles, her little feet kicking like crazy just as he heard a raspberry coming from the other side of her.

“As cute as this is, we’re getting swamped out there, Dare,” Carol interrupted, just her head visible through the swinging doors.

“We should be goin’ anyway,” Rick said, giving Daryl one last peck on the lips. “I’ll call ya on my way back.”

Daryl gave a nod and kissed Judith on the cheek before he showed them out.

*****

The only thing better than waking up in Daryl’s bed to the smell of freshly baking bread was waking up to the smell of a roasting turkey. Rick had spent Thanksgiving riding shotgun as he and Shane patrolled their town. They only received a few calls, mostly domestic disputes attributed to alcohol, but they did have to offer crowd control when someone tried to burn their kitchen down with a turkey.

They stopped by the bakery a few times so Rick could kiss the shit out of Daryl, but that happened on every shift.

Daryl spent most of his day prep cooking what he could for Friendsgiving, as he dubbed it. They turned down an invitation for dinner with the Greene’s and opted for Netflix with a healthy side of _Chill,_ but they both turned in early, which was probably a good thing considering Daryl woke up at four to start cooking the turkeys Merle shot.

Rick got up a few hours later, his nose leading him downstairs and straight to the coffee pot. He fixed him a cup and watched Daryl buzz around the kitchen for a moment, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated on stirring something on the stove.

“Hey, yer not supposed ta be up yet. I haven’t made breakfast,” Daryl muttered when he finally noticed him. He had a streak of chocolate smeared across his brow, reminiscent of the time Rick painted him with caramel, but Daryl looked much too frazzled for something like that now, regardless of how much the memory made Rick’s cock twitch.

Simmering pans sat on the stove, the oven looked stuffed with turkey and whatever other yummy treats he’d dreamed up. A few casserole dishes took up half of one counter, and Rick smiled when he saw the vanilla wafers poking out of one indicating banana pudding—a favorite he’d told Daryl about in passing.

“Ya think breakfast is wise with all this other stuff?” he asked, moseying over to Daryl. He put his mug down and slipped his hands into the pockets of Daryl’s apron, pulling their hips flush.

Daryl gave a lighthearted scoff. “Like we ain’t gonna work it all off later.”

After several chocolate pancakes, Rick donned an apron and helped Daryl with anything he needed. By the time he got back from a last minute beer run, because “No, Rick, this really ain’t enough,” the kitchen was filled to bursting. Carol and Maggie had showed up with a ham and dressing respectively. Michonne, Shane, and Andrea trotted in right after with more savory carbs since Daryl tended to go for the sweeter sides: candied yams, molasses infused baked beans, and just about every dessert known to man.

“Hey, Rick, take these out to the boys, would ya,” Maggie said, barely giving him enough time to sit down the beer before shoving a tray of mini quiches at him.

He took them out to the sitter area where Shane and Tyreese were rearranging the tables, Beth coming in right behind them and setting down placemats and potholders. It looked strangely formal and bigger than any Thanksgiving Rick had ever celebrated. “How long have y’all been doin’ this?”

As soon as the vultures spotted Rick with food, they swarmed.

“Long time,” Beth said, blowing on the three quiches she grabbed before popping one into her mouth. “Daryl calls it Friendsgivin’, but we’re all pretty much family.”

He gathered as much.

They didn’t get settled around the table until well after noon, but they’d already polished off two boxes of wine that Dale brought and a nice portion of the beer. Everyone said hi to Carl when he Facetimed, and then they went around the table making toasts as they gorged themselves on the most moist, delicious turkey Rick had ever tasted. He’d never had wild turkey before, but there was no way he could ever eat a butterball again.

“Would ya stop with the sex noises,” Daryl whispered to him. “Yer drivin’ me nuts.”

Rick smirked and doubled down. He used his fingers to pick up a juicy piece of dark meat and deliver it to his mouth where he hummed and moaned around the bite. He made sure to pull his fingers out nice and slow, the pop at the end causing Daryl’s jaw to clench as he swallowed.

“Asshole,” Daryl huffed, but Rick delighted in the crimson creeping up his neck.

Rick wondered if it would be rude to kick everyone out so he could fuck him on the table, but then they started passing around dessert, and he decided to wait.

Not to be outdone, Daryl decided to return the favor, forgoing his utensils to pick up a slice of apple pie with his bare hands. A glob of gooey filling ran down his wrist, and Rick’s mouth watered as he listened to him slurp the pie into his mouth. Gluttony just might be the sin that kills him, but not today, because right as he leaned in to lick a cinnamon apple off Daryl’s chin, the bell on the door jingled.

Everyone turned around, Daryl primed to tell whomever it was that they were closed for the day, but there stood Merle banging on the glass. Daryl groaned as he pushed away from the table, heavy feet beating like the drums of war on the linoleum.

Merle looked beyond drunk. His words ran together and the telltale stagger in his step meant Daryl had to lead him over to the table. “Told yer sorry ass ta wake me, Darlina, and ya can’t even do that right.”

“I called you five times, Merle.”

“Ya coulda came ‘n got me then. Or did ya jus’ not want me here? Ya think yer too good for ol’ Merle, ‘s that it?”

“Nobody thinks that, Merle,” Shane tried.

“Yeah, he’s just been busy cookin’ all day,” Michonne added.

“Stay outta it, pigs.”

“Yer drunk, Merle, eat somethin’,” Daryl said as he sat back down.

The conversations resumed until the sound of a chair screeching across the floor interrupted them. “Hate these damn chairs,” Merle growled, pulling his up between Daryl and Maggie.

“Here, I got you a plate,” Beth said, handing it over to him.

He slammed it on the table so hard Rick thought it would break and then started shoveling sides onto it. “Git me a beer, Darlina.”

“Think ya had enough.”

The sound of Merle’s fist colliding with the table echoed in the bakery as everyone went silent. Merle was a mean drunk, but Rick hadn’t yet had the misfortune of seeing him so shitfaced. He couldn’t say he ever wanted to see it again.

Carol cleared her throat and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’ll get it.”

“Least someone ‘round here still gives a shit.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry, Rick, he just ain’t used to sharin’.”

“Well, ya can’t really have a holiday without someone gettin’ drunk and causin’ a scene.”

“There ya go, Merle,” Carol said, sitting a red solo cup on the table in front of Merle. He picked it up and drank half of it before letting out a loud belch. “Thanks, sugar tits.”

“It’s just root beer,” she whispered to Rick and Daryl, patting them on the shoulder before taking her seat.

Once again, everyone went back to their pre-Merle conversations now that Merle had his mouth occupied with something other than words.

*

After Merle had something in his belly, things quieted down. Everyone finished eating in peace as Merle smacked away on one of the turkey legs and mumbled racist shit about “redskins” that no one listened to. Daryl finished up his pie and leaned back in his chair to take in the sight of his friends stuffing themselves on his food, their cheeks rosy from cheap wine.

The occasional belly laugh rumbled through the bakery as Daryl’s fingers toyed with the curls at the base of Rick’s neck, but as soon as Shane started in on his greatest arrests, Rick squeezed his thigh and stood, announcing to no one in particular that he had to use the restroom. Daryl only managed to wait thirty seconds before he hurried after, grabbing one of his infamous Backwater Bonanza cupcakes on his way. 

Not that he needed anymore booze; his face had already started to go numb as it was.

He had barely made it inside the kitchen when Rick pounced, smashing their lips together and almost making him drop his cupcake. He recovered the near fumble and rubbed the icing all over Rick’s mouth when he pulled back.

“Asshole!” Rick said with a chuckle, but Daryl went about licking him clean as they stumbled farther into the kitchen. Daryl guided them toward the pantry. “A closet? Isn’t that just a bit cliché?” 

“Really too drunk ta care, Rick.”

Daryl lost track of the cupcake at that point. For all he knew, it crumbled under the force in which Rick slammed him against the door. The taste of alcohol and sugar on Rick’s tongue had him dizzy, so it took a couple of tries to get Rick’s jeans unzipped enough to get his hand on the prize, but the near breathless way Rick said his name when his fingers curled around his cock had his own member throbbing and straining against his zipper.

“Fuck, hurry up, Rick,” he panted, getting impatient waiting for Rick to return the favor, but he must’ve been just as drunk because Daryl ended up having to let go—ignoring a whimper—to free his cock from his damn jeans. He pushed them down past his thighs and gripped Rick’s hip, pulling their bodies flush. “This is gonna be over way too soon.”

“Then make it count,” Rick said with a wiggle of his hips, and yeah, Daryl was already halfway there.

The drag of skin against skin felt heavenly, but then Rick spit in his hand and started working them over, his calloused palm setting fire to his insides on every stroke. Fingers danced over the head of his cock, a thumb teasing the slit and making Daryl’s knees go weak. Goosebumps broke out all over his body bathed in a thin sheen of sweat as his hips got in on the action. 

He thrust into Rick’s hand a few times and had to kiss him to keep from crying out his name. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and he could hardly get enough air in his lungs, but fuck if he was gonna go hurling over the edge without pulling Rick right along with him. So he spit in his palm a few times, slicking it up nice and easy, then grabbed Rick’s cock, the veins on the underside jumping at the attention.

“Fu-fuck, Daryl.”

_Close enough._

Rick’s free hand curled around his shoulder, the tips of his fingers digging into muscle as he held on tight. Daryl’s lip was going to be ruby red from teeth sinking into them repeatedly—both his and Rick’s—but he didn’t mind when Rick marked him. Merle was going to have a fit when he woke up though, if he woke up. He’d probably be in a booze-induced coma for a few days. 

But he didn’t want to think about his brother with his boyfriend so close to coming undone. He was trying to keep it down too, burying his face into Daryl’s neck, hot breath branding his skin as he mangled Daryl’s name with panty breaths.

Daryl picked up the pace, but the faster he pumped his hand, the less coordinated he became. But he still got the job done, Rick biting down on his collarbone when he spilt out into Daryl’s hand. Rick slumped against him after, and Daryl had to swat his hand away to finish himself off. “Such a lightweight,” he teased.

Not that Rick wasn’t doing a damn good job, but he had Rick’s come oozing through his fingers, and fuck if that didn’t get his engine running double time. His body shuddered when Rick pressed kisses to his neck, and before he knew it, the pressure building in his belly reached its tipping point. He saw stars when he came, his muscles going rigid with his orgasm as Rick held him up.

The soft light in the pantry turned Rick’s blue eyes to gold, but he looked damn near perfect with his clothes all crumpled and his hair carelessly tousled. If he was the Ghost of Friendsgiving future, Daryl was totally on board.

“Sorry, baby. I woulda sucked ya off, but if I eat one more thang, I might explode,” Rick said, still out of breath.

Daryl laughed. “Think ya already did.”

They straightened themselves out and exited the pantry. Neither were too surprised to find Merle passed out in his mashed potatoes when they rejoined the party, Michonne and Andrea hovering over him taking pictures. But like Rick said, it wasn’t a celebration without the family drunk spouting off at the dinner table.

The only thing missing was Rick’s kids, but all in all, Daryl had had one of the best Friendsgivings on record. Maybe he’d grown more sentimental over the years, or maybe he’d finally found someone worth spending it with, someone willing to stand beside him in the kitchen stirring hot pans and sit beside him while his drunk-ass brother made a fool of himself, but he supposed there was a reason Thanksgiving had always been his favorite holiday. 

And while he didn’t exactly celebrate it anymore, _Friendsgiving Friday_ had replaced it years ago, he sure had a helluva lot to be thankful for.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's](http://mommysavers.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Nutter-Butter-Turkey-Cupcakes-1024x658.jpg) the adorable turkeys Carl and Daryl made.


End file.
